


Possession

by moor



Category: Naruto
Genre: Dark, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naruto-verse AU. Madara x Sakura. He wore her down, little by little, until she acknowledged she was his. Rated 'M', to be cautious, due to themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

"What are you doing?"

Sasuke's voice cut through the uncomfortable, hot tension in the room, disrupting the pair of shinobi who'd been standing so closely together. When he'd heard muffled, low voices from the direction of the library, he'd investigated to find them there, and while to anyone else it would have looked completely casual, he knew his 'uncle' too well not to know better. Anything involving him was compromising; and though she wasn't letting anything obvious signal her distress, Sasuke could feel the wariness washing off his team mate in waves. The young Uchiha's eyes narrowed-they stood far too closely together for his liking.

Madara, not looking a day over twenty-five, straightened after a moment of Sasuke's glaring, and backed up a respectful distance from his prey. "Nothing," he replied almost innocently, his tone anything but.

Sakura, he noticed, was staring at him and trying to communicate something.

He wasn't sure if it was, "Save me," or, "Fuck off and die." They needed to work on their silent communication more.

But first, the pair needed to be fully separated.

"Naruto's coming soon; we should go meet him at the gates," Sasuke informed her, and waited for her deliberately, forcing her to leave Madara's side.

She nodded and walked away from the older Uchiha, not looking at him once.

When she reached Sasuke, she smiled tightly at him and made her way into the hall.

Behind her back, he gave a final glare at his 'uncle', and departed.

He didn't miss the way Madara met his flashing red eyes, before he took a comfortable seat in the nearest settee.

* * *

It was almost painful-hot and uncomfortable and distinctly noticeable, of all things, she couldn't ignore it-when she felt the presence make itself known behind her. His presence again.

How often had he sought her out?

She wasn't even sure anymore.

It had seemed like any time she was alone, she wasn't-that shadow, malevolent along its serrated edges, cut into her personal space like nothing ever had before, insidiously trailing her whenever she was in or near the Village.

The dark, cloying chakra that he seeped from him surrounded her, and she couldn't help but wonder if he did it deliberately, simply to let her know he was there, and he wanted her to acknowledge him.

When he finally pulled alongside her in the marketplace, or when she made her increasingly rare visits to the Uchiha compound to seek out Sasuke, she had attempted to ignore Madara, and humouring her, he'd simply followed her or stayed at her side, as if he were meant to be there, watching over her, watching her.

He made it so that her life was no longer her own, until he'd driven himself into every aspect of her existence.

And while he'd started off subtly, when other males had shown any form of interest in her, he'd been swift and vicious in his reaction.

Dominating.

Possessive.

The first time he touched her she wanted to rip off the fingertips he'd dared to trail along the sensitive inner skin of her wrist—she wanted to rail at him, to pummel and bury him so he daren't ever touch her again. When she'd whirled to do just that, on the doorstep of her own home the evening she'd returned from a several months' long mission, the words had been on her dry, aching throat to finally, finally, tell him to just stay away from her.

And then she'd felt the gentlest touch against her cheek, welcoming her home, and caught the faintest hint of an inky Uchiha mane and smug smirk, from the corner of her eye.

—before she entered her doorway, to find her home in neat order, with an Uchiha-crested traditional shirt across the foot of her bed.

Letting her know, he'd been there.

Belonged there.

* * *

Sasuke noticed it—the way she no longer shied away from everyone (worried about their wellbeing, he was sure), or seemed to lose her grasp on her temper as frequently as she had been due to stress.

She had adapted.

Become... used to the presence that he'd recognised around her for some time.

She hadn't given Madara permission, by any means, but she no longer rallied against him or fought him the way she had.

He had worn a place, a presence, in her life. Not one she welcomed, from what he could tell, but one she was simply too tired to rage against any longer.

And Sasuke was deeply concerned about this, given the nature of their Team and his Family.

When Naruto accidentally let a Rasengan slip too early, threatening to graze Sakura (who'd been engaged sparring with Kakashi), Sasuke hadn't been surprised when the fire black fire he'd only ever seen a few times in his life—courtesy of spars with his older brother—had leapt towards the source of the Rasengan. What had surprised him about the vicious backlash was when Sakura had been surrounded by the licking flames in order to protect her from the Wind Blade.

When the fire had extinguished itself, Sakura was no longer within its protective barrier; Sasuke had felt the flare of Madara's chakra just prior, and wasn't surprised to find her missing. He only hoped she was safe, wherever she was, because wherever she had ended up, he knew Madara was there with her.

* * *

When she stood again, the room was dark.

As always, she knew he was there.

For once, he was almost direct, his arms circling her from behind, his mouth coming to rest at the crux of her throat and shoulder, hot and wet and sucking on the soft, tender skin with every intention of making love to her neck and leaving a very obvious mark of intent—and ownership—in its wake.

As he molded his firm body against her back, his hands sliding down her sides, they came to settle on her hips, his grip craving, his fingers almost clawed, before they slid downwards, forward, to rest over her belly.

After suffering so long without another's touch, even Sakura's iron will had weakened, and desperate for affection, for simple touch from another, she gave... just a bit.

Her slender body trembling, she raised her own hands, and laid them overtop his.

And shuddered when she felt more than heard him growl with pure, male satisfaction, a low, smouldering fire igniting in her belly.

* * *

"Mine," his words brushed softly against her throat as she stirred in her sleep.

Murmuring contentedly and shifting beneath the body sprawled deliberately atop her, Sakura sighed and stretched and instinctively arched up against the warmth she'd come to expect surrounding her at night.

Madara smirked into her enticing skin.

* * *

The first time he moved inside her, Sakura wept in pain.

It was as much emotional (was this surrender? defeat?) as physical (even as a medic, she hadn't expected this), and she'd felt his skin breaking under the force of her grip on his shoulders as she bent her head into his neck, as she felt him making calming noises into her soft, dishevelled hair, and as she acknowledged his legs, back, shoulders flexing as he slowly pressed himself further into her before pulling back again.

He didn't relent, but pushed her on, forcing her to meet his pace, forcing her into his rhythm, forcing her to find her own rhythm, too.

Because what he wanted, he got, and he'd wanted her so long he burned with it. And he wanted her to feel it, too.

So he took her in his hands and taught her.

Soon teaching her how to accept him, how to ask for more, how to take control.

Eventually enthralled when she took the lead, dominated him, accepted him.

When she finally cried out in triumph, he knew he was accepted, and released his victory seated deeply within her.

As they finally slumped together in a tangle of arms and legs and sweat-dampened hair, Sakura fell asleep within minutes, spent beyond anything she ever had been in more ways than she ever thought possible.

And Madara smirked a final time before drifting off, his eyes heavy lidded and dark once more, gathering the kunoichi into his arms and cradling her against him.

When she woke, it was to find his arms still curled around her waist, his warm hands possessively protecting her belly.

Her own stirred with concern.

* * *

AN: Written way back in 2011. A little darker than my usual fare. Posted here, since I have a faible for MadaSaku. Please note I do not own Naruto or any of its affiliates.


End file.
